


Spectre

by Sparcck



Series: Harry Potter and the Cracktastic Crossover [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Crossover, Crossovers100, Gen, disturbing imagery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-12
Updated: 2012-05-12
Packaged: 2017-11-05 05:20:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/402868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparcck/pseuds/Sparcck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The Wizarding District between Bludhaven and Gotham was literally a hole in the wall.  Or, more accurately, a hole in the ground.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Harry's war isn't the only one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spectre

**Author's Note:**

> keyword 065: **passing**
> 
> thanks to [blythely](http://blythely.livejournal.com) and [jayest](http://jayest.livejournal.com) for the start, the support and the being fabulous. <33

The Wizarding District between Bludhaven and Gotham was literally a hole in the wall. Or, more accurately, a hole in the ground.

Harry nudged the rusty gate to the abandoned Underground entrance, and it swung open enough to let him squeeze through. 

He descended the plunging, crumbling staircase carefully, picking his way through rubble and soft lumps that looked like things he'd rather not try to identify. Down into the darkness, and he almost gagged at the sweet smell of rotting magic that hung heavily in the open air, the buzz of it soaking through his skin and making his heart race. His own magic felt like it was burrowing deeper into him, trying to hide from whatever it was that had done this.

The nearly-destroyed walls of the blown out shops on either side seemed to close in around him and he had to steel himself to move forward. He desperately wished he had brought Neville's Photosynthesia Potion, to boost the oxygen in his blood; instead, he pulled off his jumper and cast a quick _Aguamenti_ before wrapping it around his face to cut the stench. 

It couldn't be Death Eaters. It was bigger than that. Enormous, in fact. 

Binns spent an entire class droning about an ancient wizard in America and a spectre of vengeance who held the balance of magic; but without a host and without the wizard, the spirit would hunt down and annihilate every trace of magic in the world. Hermione and Harry had both brushed it off as a tall tale, but Ron had been pale under his freckles, having heard the story when he was little. 

Harry had to swallow to keep from vomiting at the thought that Ron was right to be terrified.

Hermione would beat herself up something terrible over this. Dead end. No fifth horcrux, no Death Eaters, nothing here at all but the signs of a war he had to pray was long over and taken care of.

He was already going to need a good lie-down after his own.

He followed the scraggly, dead garden road (Harry imagined it had once been fashioned after the Underground tracks) that followed the perimeter of the district, sloping gently up for about a kilometre until he finally reached the other side, a pin-point of light and fresh air in what looked like an impenetrable wall.

This would have to compensate for not walking through to Platform 9 and 3/4 this year. He took a breath and stepped through.

When he emerged on the other side, he unwrapped his jumper from his face and squatted, breathing cool, crisp air that smelled of mud and wet leaves, welcome and almost familiar. The sweat on his face and throat turned frigid immediately. 

"Help you with something?"

Harry shot to one knee and found himself wand to nightstick with a lean figure in a sleek, black and blue costume.

"Aren't you a little late for Halloween?" Harry asked, his heart thudding in his throat. He was certain American wizards didn't run around in what reminded him of the super-hero costumes from the few muggle comic books he found he couldn't part with and were jammed under his mattress back at 12 Grimmauld Place. 

Although, honestly, god only knew what Americans got up to most of the time.

"I'm going to assume you just didn't read your visitor's guide." His voice was deep and rumbly and sounded menacing in a practised way. "Lucky you got me and not the big guy." The bloke grinned and if it weren't for the solid muscles, the thoroughly unnerving domino mask with opaque white slits where his eyes should be and the knee planted firmly between Harry's, Harry might almost find it reassuring. And possibly rather attractive.

"Yeah," Harry said, gathering his magic at the base of his throat and wrists. "Lucky me." _Expelliarmus_ , he thought, and pushed. 

Harry knew something was wrong the second the spell left him, his magic felt prickly and lopsided. The nightstick flew out of the bloke's hand but rather than be guided to Harry's own grasp, it spun away, hard, and the kickback knocked him off balance. A moment later, he was slammed to the ground, the previously-only-threatening knee driving all the air from him.

" _Incarcerous_!" Harry gasped and the Possibly-a-Real-Live-Super-Hero moved so fast Harry had trouble following him.

The ropes grew sluggishly and only got hold of one of the bloke's arms before he twisted under it, leading another of the ropes to wind around the first. He planted his feet against it and pushed, and the line slackened enough for him to slip through. He jumped back on his hands, evading another, then sprang up to grasp the end of it, swinging back at Harry heels first.

Harry cast _Impedimenta_ , but it bottlenecked and bounced back at him; he dove out of the way, cracking his head against the ground. He rolled up, too slow, because the bloke was there, pushing him back down again.

"Neat trick," the bloke said, barely winded, as he leaned over Harry, dragging his arms behind his back and fastening them with something thin and hard that made a kind of zippering noise when they pulled tight.

"Cheers," Harry replied, trying to decide between throwing up and passing out. His wand had slipped out of his hand when he fell and he breathed deeply, hoping he could at least muster up enough magic for a very gentle wandless _Diffindo_ , if he didn't end up chopping his own hands off.

The bloke crouched low in front of him, brushing Harry's hair back from his forehead with one hand, his gauntlet oddly textured on the pads of the fingers. Harry blinked up at him.

"You're bleeding."

Harry thought he felt something wet on his face, but he forgot in all the jumping and diving and being tackled. His scar had been growing more raw and raised over the past months; sometimes he caught Ron staring at him like Voldemort was going to come crawling out his skull at any moment. 

At least he wasn't as spotty as he had been sixth year. He supposed it was a fair trade off for a prophecy bulging out of one's face.

"Yeah," Harry said. "It does that." He flinched when the fingers probed again. "Is this how you treat all your prisoners?"

The bloke looked amused. "You're not my prisoner."

Harry barked out a laugh. "Did I misunderstand the knocking me down and tying me up bit?"

"Well, there _is_ protocol."

Harry snorted, twisting his wrists and trying to focus. The bloke was checking him over more thoroughly now, his hands quick and efficient.

"Magician?"

"Er," Harry cleared his throat and his heart thumped hard when the bloke's hands passed firmly down his back. "Not exactly."

The bloke tipped his head like he was listening to something. He pressed a finger to his ear. "Unidentified meta." There was a pause and his lips twitched. "Magic. Walks through walls, carries a pointy stick, the usual." 

Harry pulled hard at his bonds. "I'm not a...whatever you called me."

An eyebrow arched up over the mask. It reminded Harry very suddenly of Draco Malfoy.

Harry swallowed. "Just born this way."

The bloke smirked and twirled Harry's wand between his fingers. "Your folks must be very proud."

Harry gritted his teeth and had to force himself not to lunge at him, wonky magic be damned.

The bloke seemed to sense it and he was no longer smiling, his face angular and drawn under the hard angles of his mask. "Here," the bloke said gruffly and held out Harry's wand.

" _Diffindo_ ", Harry whispered and his bonds snapped; he felt his own magic slicing one shallow cut across his left wrist. 

"Go," the bloke said. "And don't come back."

"But--"

"Nightwing."

They both looked up. There was a boy dressed in red and green, maybe Harry's age, perched on the same fire escape as Harry's bloke had been. A yellow and black cape billowed around him and his mouth was curved in a worried frown. "We have to go."

Harry staggered to his feet. "Is it the Spectre?" he blurted.

Nightwing's eyes narrowed. "You'd better hope not. For all our sakes."

Harry nodded and made a decision. "I'm Harry," he said. "And if it is him, I'll come back."

" _Go_ ," Nightwing said sharply.

Harry looked at him a second longer, then and Apparated back to his own war.

He supposed the lie-down would have to wait. 

*


End file.
